


Curiouser and Curiouser

by okapi



Category: Alice In Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
Genre: Anal Sex, Bestiality, Double Penetration, Dub-con for sex pollen, Frottage, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Poetry, Puns & Word Play, Rimming, Sex Pollen, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-02 23:07:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19451362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okapi/pseuds/okapi
Summary: Two stand-alone fics set in Alice's Wonderland.1. The prim roses are in bloom in Alice's Wonderland. PWP. Orgy. Alice/Cheshire Cat. Alice/Dormorse/March Hare/Mad Hatter. Dub-con for sex pollen.2. The Gryphon & the Mock Turtle perform the Lobster Quadrille as a sex act. Gryphon/Mock Turtle.





	1. Sex Pollen Orgy

**Author's Note:**

> For the DW 2019 Corsets and Lemons kink meme. The prompt was: _sex pollen_.

Abandoning the mad tea party, Alice found herself at last in the beautiful garden, among the bright flower beds and the cool fountains.  
  
At once, she felt a curious sensation which puzzled her. It wasn’t from a bottle with a label that read ‘Drink Me’ or from a cake with currants that spelled ‘Eat Me.’ It seemed to be a scent with an aroma that smelled ‘Sniff Me.’  
  
So Alice sniffed, and she found it very nice (it had, in fact, a sort of mixed fragrance of baking bread, freshly-cut grass, and Mummy’s best perfume).  
She filled her chest with the heady bouquet, then sighed softly,  
  
“Whatever can it be?”  
  
“The Prim Roses are in bloom.”  
  
Alice started at the voice.  
  
A large green leaf bowed towards her. Resting upon the centre of the leaf was the blue caterpillar, except that it wasn’t blue anymore, but rather an enchanting shade of pink.  
  
“I should very much like to see the primroses,” said Alice politely, though the curious sensation inside her was growing stronger, and ‘very much like’ seemed far too weak.  
  
Alice pointed to the path before her which split into two, one rising and one descending. “Which way ought I to walk?” she asked, though she had no intention of doing anything other than running.  
  
“Down, of course,” said the caterpillar. “One always goes down the Prim Rose path.”  
  
Alice had no time to ponder this because the Hatter and the March Hare appeared, barrowing down upon her, pushing a sleeping Dormouse in a rusted pram with all due haste.  
  
Alice leapt out of the way, narrowing avoiding collision. She watched them pass, without so much as an ‘excuse me’ or ‘pardon me’ or ‘every so sorry,’ then disappear down the path.  
  
“Thank you,” said Alice as she made to hurry after them, but a glance told her the leaf had risen to its original place and the caterpillar was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

“Oh, my!” exclaimed Alice when she reached the end of the path. 

The roses were, indeed, very prim, arrayed in tidy beds with starched petals and demure stems and correct thorns, but between the rows she spied the trio from the mad tea party.  
  
Clothing was scattered about the ground, and a silvery dust rained down upon one and all.  
  
The March Hare was propped against the still-slumbering Dormouse. The Hatter was upended, meaning his end was up and his up was end. His head was buried between the March Hare’s hind legs and the March Hare’s head was buried between his.  
  
“I eat what I see!” grunted the Hatter.  
  
“I see what I eat!” retorted the March Hare.  
  
“I like what I get!”  
  
“I get what I like!”  
  
“It is the best butter!”  
  
“The crumbs on the bread knife!”  
  
On and on they went until the Dormouse woke to murmur, “Treacle.”  
  
The Hatter plucked his head from between the March Hare’s legs. “Pour a bit of hot treacle on its nose.”  
  
“Well in the treacle well,” mumbled the Dormouse as its eyelids drooped.  
  
“I want a clean cup,” interrupted the March Hare. “Let’s all move one place on.”  
  
Then, after much effort, the Dormouse was slumped against the Hatter with the March Hare atop it, inverted and digging between its hind legs. The head of the March Hare was bobbing and twitching, but the Dormouse’s head merely nodded once, then rested still upon the valley between the hare’s legs.  
  
Alice was quite certain her clothes were too tight. She reached under her dress and drew off her knickers while saying to herself, “If one only knew how to scratch this dreadful itch—” when she was startled to see the Cheshire Cat sitting on the edge of a rose bed a yard off.  
  
The Cat grinned at Alice, rose to its paws, and sashayed towards her.  
  
“O Cheshire Puss,” said Alice as she slipped off her shoes, “would you tell me, please, how to—”  
  
“Climb aboard,” said the Cat.  
  
“But how?” queried Alice who was not certain at all if a raven was like a writing desk but was certain that a cat was not like a carriage.  
  
“Just like a hobby horse,” replied the Cat, whose fur was now streaked shiny silver from the glimmering powder, which was still falling about them in a slow, shining cascade.  
  
Alice straddled the Cat, who seemed to swell in size between her legs.  
  
“Now ride,” commanded the Cat.  
  
“Oh, oh, oh!” gasped Alice as she rocked back and forth, rubbing herself against the Cat’s soft fur. The curious sensation grew stronger and stronger until Alice was quite lightheaded.  
  
She dropped her head back and noticed the Prim Roses averting their blossoms from the scene. Then she giggled and said in a voice not her own,  
  
_How doth the little pussy wet_  
Fill up her greedy hole  
With prick and stick of all’s she met  
With pillar, post, and pole!  
How merrily she seems to smile,  
How widely spread her lips,  
Welcoming the rank and file  
With wildly bucking hips!  
  
“This is nothing like falling down a rabbit-hole,” said Alice to herself as bubble after bubble of sweetness burst inside her.  
  
Just then, the White Rabbit rushed upon them, muttering,  
  
“Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I am too late!”  
  
“Nonsense,” said Alice, and when she was presented with a tiny hole of tucked between the White Rabbit’s hind legs, she leaned forward, pushed downy fur aside, and stuck her tongue in it, never once considering why in the world she was performing such an act.  
  
“Oh, my ears and whiskers!” cried the White Rabbit as Alice probed its little burrow, lapping and licking as if it were the treacliest of tarts.  
Alice felt the ground beneath her shift.  
  
Soon, the fur brushing her was not the long wisps of a cat but rather then short, sleepy, stubbly fleece of a dormouse.  
  
One hard little tip was pressing between Alice’s legs, then another, so she spread her knees as wide as she could and lifted her bottom hospitably.  
  
“Curiouser and curiouser,” she thought to herself as her gaze rose to the sky above the heaving, waistcoat-clad back of the White Rabbit. Through the gentle shower of silver dust, Alice spied a disembodied mouth floating on air. But it was not alone.  
  
“Oh, well, that’s something, at least,” thought Alice. “Cats _do_ eat bats.”  
  
When Alice thought about it later, it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at everything that transpired at the end of the Prim Rose path, but at the time it all seemed quite natural.


	2. The Lobster Quadrille. (Gryphon/Mock Turtle)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gryphon and the Mock Turtle perform the Lobster Quadrille as a sex act. Gryphon/Mock Turtle. Bestiality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the DW 2019 Corsets and Lemons kink meme. The prompt was: _Gryphon and the Mock Turtle perform 'The Lobster Quadrille' as a sex act._

The Gryphon returned from escorting Alice to the trial. He found the Mock Turtle perched upon a crag overlooking the sea.  
  
The Mock Turtle sighed deeply, then sobbed, “She was a most confusing creature!”  
  
The Gryphon set to work at once, shaking the Mock Turtle and punching him in the back.  
  
“Pull yourself together, old fellow. No need to flounder so.”  
  
Tears streamed down the Mock Turtle’s face. “No explanations!” he sniffed. “Trouting conventions, I suppose! The younger generation!”  
  
“I don’t think she’d ever been to school at all,” remarked the Gryphon ruefully. “I daren’t ask her to do ‘The Boy Who Stood on the Burning Deck.’”  
  
“I was trying to distract myself by getting abreast of the current news,” said the Mock Turtle. He struck his own chest, then waved a flapper at the watery horizon.  
  
“Leave off,” suggested the Gryphon. He tapped a light rhythm with beak and claws on the Mock Turtle’s shell. “Why don’t we give the third figure of the Lobster Quadrille a go? It’s certain to buoy your spirits.”  
  
The Mock Turtle’s tears and sobs halted. He looked at the Gryphon with surprise, then surveyed the expanse of shore behind them and nodded.

* * *

“Two lines!” cried the Mock Turtle as he stood facing the Gryphon at the shoreline. A lobster was tucked under flapper and wing, respectively.  
  
“Advance twice!” called the Mock Turtle.  
  
He and the Gryphon shuffled two steps towards each other.  
  
“Set to partners!”  
  
They brought their lobster in front of them.  
  
“Change partners!”  
  
Each tossed his lobsters in the air and caught the other’s. “Now…”  
  
They hurled their lobsters into the sea.  
  
“Promenade!” cried the Mock Turtle.  
  
Swinging his lower half, the Mock Turtle strutted two steps toward the tide, turned, strutted two steps back, then turned once more to face the Gryphon, who all the while had been sitting upon his hind legs and flapping his wings to the beat of an unsung song.  
  
With every flutter, a gust of briny breeze whipped between the two and a bit more of the Gryphon’s sheathed cock made itself known.  
  
“Milk your partner!” cried the Mock Turtle before scuttling toward the Gryphon on all fours. He took the Gryphon’s cock in his mouth and suckled it like a newborn calf.  
  
“Every drop! Do no stop! Every drop!” screeched the Gryphon as his wings fanned. “Retreat!”  
  
When the Mock Turtle pulled off, he left the Gryphon’s cock jutting stiff and proud between furry hind legs.  
  
The Mock Turtle scooted backwards and gyrated frantically in his original spot.  
  
“Shell-back! Shell-lack!” squawked Gryphon.  
  
The Mock Turtle jumped and squirmed in air and, suddenly, his shell popped off and toppled onto the sand. He did a pirouette then landed on all fours; his hind quarters lifted in invitation.  
  
The Gryphon mounted him at once and, balancing precariously so as not to dig his razor-sharp claws into the Mock Turtle’s soft back, rocked as he thrust.  
  
The Mock Turtle rubbed his flappers in the sand and sang,  
  
_“’Will you fuck a little harder?’ said the Turtle to the Cat._  
“There’s an albatross behind us, and his cock is nice and fat.  
See how eagerly its leaking and his willy-nilly dance?  
He is watching from the shingle—will he come and join the dance?  
Will he, won't he, will he, won't he, will he join the dance?  
Will he, won't he, will he, won't he, won't he join the dance?  
  
He can really have no notion how delightful it will be  
When he sinks his cock, that weighty rock, in my cavern by the sea!’  
But the bird replied, "Too deep, too wide!" and gave a look askance—  
Said he thanked the Turtle kindly, but he would not join the dance.  
Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance.  
Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance.  
  
‘What I like is the Cat, you know?’ the watching bird demurred.  
‘His cove’s a treasure trove, you know, to plunder, tight and furred.  
Start sodding him in England, why I just might spend in France!’  
The Cat did grin, cried, ‘Stick it in! Please, come and join the dance!’  
With flailing tail, he gave a wail, ‘Please do join the dance!  
Oh, please! Oh, please! Please sod this tease! Oh, please do join the dance!’”  
  
At this, the Gryphon spent himself inside the Mock Turtle. A smattering of applause erupted from the shoreline as the returning lobsters clicked their claws together appreciatively.  
  
The Gryphon dismounted with flapping wings. Mock Turtle groaned and rolled back into his shell.  
  
“Better, old fellow?” panted the Gryphon.  
  
The Mock Turtle sighed. “Happy as a…”  
  
The clams cheered while the oysters clutched their pearls and whispered amongst themselves.  
  
“So modern!”  
  
“Without a bit of porpoise!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
